


Ice Cream

by zephalien



Series: community center paul [6]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller Are Best Friends, Gen, Trans Male Character, Transgender Alec Hardy, alec hardy has poor social skills, lowkey autistic alec, masculinity issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23529274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephalien/pseuds/zephalien
Summary: Hardy opens the door and doesn't even try to suppress his groan at seeing Miller stood there in the doorway hand in hand with Fred."Oh lord, haven't you seen plenty of me by now?" He whines immediately.She blunders past him dumping her bags on the counter.
Relationships: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller
Series: community center paul [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598026
Kudos: 42





	Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place immediately after the events of s3

Hardy opens the door and doesn't even try to suppress his groan at seeing Miller stood there in the doorway hand in hand with Fred.

"Oh lord, haven't you seen plenty of me by now?" He whines immediately.She blunders past him dumping her bags on the counter.

"Funny way to treat a guest. Fred, say hello to Mr. Hardy." She says, busying herself with the shopping bags.

“Hi, Mr. Hardy.” Fred says politely, tugging his coat off. 

"Uninvited guest." He grumbles, but softens toward Fred. “Daisy’s in the living room. She had me buy one of those game switches, if you like.”

This gets Fred to make actual eye contact and a grin blooms on his face. “You have a switch?”

Hardy looks, uncertainly, at Ellie, who shrugs. “Aye, go on in. She’ll show you how it works while I talk to your mom.” 

“Thanks, Mr. Hardy!” Fred calls as he rushes into the other room. Hardy winces at his loud voice thinking he maybe should have warned Daisy before sending an excitable 7 year old into the living room with her.

Ellie smirks at him over her haul, “Do you even know how it works?”

Hardy scowls at her and waves a hand. “Hush, you. What are you doing here anyway?”

Ellie smiles in a broad self satisfied way and finally extracts a tub of ice cream from where she’s been rustling. “Ice cream!”

“No. No, Miller. You know I can’t have any of that-” He begins to protest, both from anxiety at whatever socialization ritual he was being roped into and the picture of ice cream mixed with candies displayed on the front of the tub.

“Aha!” She exclaims, grabbing another bag and presenting him with a smaller, more brightly colored tub, “I thought of that already!”

Hardy frowns at the packaging as she hands it over. “RazzPom Delight.” He reads out doubtfully.

“Low fat, non dairy frozen yogurt.” She proclaims proudly crossing her arms and giving him a threatening grin. “Barely even a dessert at this point.”

He looks from her to the package then back to her, then he pulls out a chair and sits with the tub still freezing in his grip, still looking at it. He takes a few breaths. In and out. Just staring at it.

Ellie stills her movement and looks over at him. Then, after realizing he isn’t going to move further, retrieves it from him. She gives him a strange look for a moment which he returns, blank faced. After a beat, she turns and goes rifling around in his cabinets for bowls. 

He takes a minute to compose himself, before scolding her for it. “Oi, ask before rummaging around my things.”

“I just need bowls and spoons. Don’t be so uptight.” She waves a distracted hand at him, not slowing down in her search. 

“On the left. Damn it, Miller.” He huffs out. 

She got the bowls and spoons out under his direction then turned and proceeded to spread every single thing she brought out on the counter in front of her. She has this way about her where she could show you she cares about you by the amount of space she takes up in your life. Hardy wants to find it pushy and obnoxious, but it’s so maternal and warm and, damn it, deeply welcome after the kind of week it’s been. He has two sisters, older than him. She reminds him a little of them, though he knows she pays quite a bit more attention than either of them might. He sits there and he wants to tell Ellie about this, but he knows he will slip up if he talks about his childhood. She has the mark of an older sister. Mature immaturity. This stubborn determination to make things okay for people (or so help her, god damn it). He shifts and is hyper aware of the way the fabric tugs unkindly against tender skin under his shirt. He resolves not to say anything.

"Why are you here again?" He says instead.

“This case was really awful and I, for one, wanted some damn ice cream. Is that alright?” She challenges.

Hardy reaches for the frozen yogurt tub and turns it to face him so he can look at the packaging again disdainfully, “Yes, but why here? At my house?”

“We’re friends.” She retorts, pleasantly.

“Are we really?” He says, eyebrows drawing into a frown, but not looking away from the frozen yogurt container.

“Yep.” She says, popping the ‘P’, “Plus the case was rough. Seemed like it got to us both pretty bad.”

She is less certain sounding near the end and that’s the only reason he doesn’t press her further. Instead he presses the palm of his curled hand to the center of his chest, feeling the rigid elastic hidden by his shirt. “It’s just standard police work.”

She gives him an unimpressed look and continues spooning the ice cream into bowls, “Not here it isn’t. Anyhow, I know it bothered you. I can see it on your face." 

“It’s not that it… bothered me.” He tells her slowly, hand rubbing a little back and forth feeling the texture of binder under cloth. 

“It’s… men. They-we,” he catches himself, “are all so...” Paul’s words from their discussion in the church come back to him, “Disgusting.”

“You said-” Ellie begins, seeming caught off guard.

“Aye, I know what I said. But.. after all that and with Daisy? How do I make her feel safe? How do any of us fe-" He trails off. 

Some internal warning system is going off that he needs to reel himself in before he slips up and outs himself, but another part is just so exhausted. He hates lying to her. Almost spits the dark little secret out right then, but he doesn't. The mental picture of her face when she learns this about him is too daunting.

“I went to check in on Paul.” He tells her instead.

She gives him a befuddled smirk, reeling from the conversation change, “Who? The vicar?”

“Aye, the vicar.” Hardy supposes he should have said it that way to begin with and wonders when he stopped thinking of Paul as “the vicar”.

“What’d you do that for?” She asks, settling two bowls. Then tips back from the counter to holler, “Fred! Come get ice cream for you and Daisy!”

He hears talking and giggling from them both before little footsteps find their way to the kitchen once more. He is speaking as soon as he hits the doorway. “Mum, you wouldn’t believe it. She has all the best games. She has both spaltoons and when you shoot stuff paint gets everywhere! And she has animal crossing and all the animals talk, mum! You have to make sure to complete the tasks and then you- Ice cream! Did you get the sprinkles??”

She tilts her head with a knowing grin and one hand tucked behind her back. “Sprinkles?” She jokes, before revealing them. “Of course, I did. Now, take all this to Daisy before it melts. We are still having our chat.” 

“Thanks, mum! Love you!” He yells, scooping the bowls and sprinkles haphazardly in his arms and running off to the living room once more. 

Ellie looks after him with a soft smile on her lips and Hardy does the same, after he watches her for a second. Then he gives her a bit of a disgruntled look. “What now?” She asks. 

“Is he gonna get everything all… sticky?” Hardy asks, making a hand gesture toward the living room. 

She just folds her arms and raises an eyebrow at him. “He’s a very well behaved child. Don’t avoid the topic.”

“What was the topic that I’m meant to be avoiding again?” Hardy asks, knowing full well that he is.

“The vicar.” She says and grins once more in a way that makes him nervous.

“Paul,” He corrects instantly, mentally kicking himself for it even as it slips out. 

“Yes,” She grins. “Paul.”

“There’s nothing to say. Just ran into him. Asked him if he knew anything regarding Mark.” Hardy shrugs, trying to avoid her line of questioning.

“Oi, what’d you do that for?” Ellie asks, not grinning anymore. He reels at her sudden mood shift and he feels the defensiveness uncurl in his belly and fights the urge to prod her like he had done with Paul.

“He was upset. I wanted to know-” Hardy argues, brows tight.

“Of course he was upset, you bloody- God, Hardy.” She shakes her head at him and he takes in too big of a breath just to feel his ribs tighten against binding painfully.

“It’s my job.” Hardy tries, voice weakening already.

“It fucking is not. He isn’t under suspicion. I thought from the look on your face you were going to-” She sighs and shakes her head again. “Never mind.” 

He feels the defense in his belly boiling to a scalding burn from her disappointment. He takes a pouting bite of his low fat frozen yogurt. She must have had to research heart healthy ice cream to give him this comfort. He feels disgusted with himself and the sweet frozen yogurt tastes sour with his shame. “I didn’t mean to say it. He told me he was worried about Mark before. I ignored him.”

His voice is flat now, toneless. He stares vacantly at his frozen yogurt and forces another bite past his lips. He needed her to see that he appreciates this. He appreciates everything. It’s horrible yogurt. 

Her eyes soften. “Christ.” She sighs.

“We really need to teach you some social skills, bloody knob.” She says, but it’s fond and gentle now. It still stings him and burns in his trapped rib cage.

“Fuck off.” He says instead, trying for a halfhearted lopsided smile. It feels weak and the worry doesn’t leave her eyes as she sighs at him again. At least she smiles tiredly this time when she shakes her head. He wishes it didn’t sting him so badly. An apology almost bubbles over from inside him, but he knows he can’t tell her why he’s sorry. His ribs ache. He’s sorry.


End file.
